


Beleaguered

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Takes Care of Dean and Sam, Choking, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Evil Arthur Ketch, Gen, Happy Ending, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), threat to a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: With Dean still badly affected by Michael’s possession, their small family is on the ropes.Ketch knows this, and picks the right moment to move against them.But Cas is not about to let any further harm come to his loved ones.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76
Collections: Supernatural Anon Kink Meme





	Beleaguered

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what it is or isn’t safe to feed a child, but Cas just went with what he had to hand under the circumstances.

“How is he?”

Cas looked about as worn as Sam had ever seen him, and he figured that answered his question; for the angel to be so exhausted after another healing session with Dean said it all, really.

“Better than he was. Sam, this will take time, I’m sorry I can’t heal him any faster….”

“Hey.” Sam got up and pulled Cas into his arms, hugging the angel tight. “You and me both know it’s a miracle we got him back _at all_, Cas. And that he’s going to get better is enough. This isn’t a broken leg or a concussion.”

No. No, it was much worse than that. They’d both feared the worst, even if neither had admitted it to the other, while searching for Dean, that even if they found him and managed to force Michael out, they’d be left with a cracked husk.

Everything that was Dean would be gone, burned out of him.

If Cas was a comet, then Michael was a supernova, and what chance would Dean have of surviving that?

But he had. He had, somehow, and maybe yes he was broken and when he looked at them, doing those fleeting moments of consciousness, he didn’t seem to register who they were and where he was, Sam had hope again.

Their lives would likely never be the same as before, but as long as he had his family with him, they’d push through somehow.

They always did, and Sam knew one day Dean would look at him and remember.

When the alarm sounded that someone was at the door, Sam roused himself and quietly turned it off, instinct, and then chided himself.

Dean wouldn’t hear it, even though the sound was relayed through the whole bunker by the speaker system.

Cas had sunk gratefully into a seat, but he got up again, and trudged towards the stairs. “We’re not expecting anyone.”

It wasn’t a question. They were essentially on lockdown, leaving only for necessary supplies and then shutting up the door behind them.

He answered, anyway. “No.” 

As the angel climbed the stairs, Sam turned to the surveillance system Dean had installed above the outside door. They’d added some touches of their own, including infrared and night vision, and a special filter that reacted to supernatural creatures, tested on Cas.

But all it showed was a familiar figure, staring expectantly up at the camera, and Sam groaned.

“Cas? It’s Ketch.”

Cas peered at him over the banister. “We could also pretend we’re not in.”

Sam found himself grinning at the normally polite angel’s suggestion, and actually considering it. Ketch knew their situation. And it was unlikely the box he was carrying was some kind of care package, since he only showed up when he needed something.

Taking full advantage of his budding...well, Sam wouldn’t call it a _friendship_ exactly with Dean, since he trusted his brother to know better, but the welcome mat had been laid out for the Englishman and he hadn’t hesitated to start treating the bunker as a home base.

But knowing how things were for them, if Ketch was here it was ever displaying his typical lack of sensitivity, or he really did have something important going on, or both.

The alarm went again and Sam watched Ketch hold his finger on the buzzer. 

He sighed.

“I guess I better put some coffee on.”

Cas grumbled something about Ketch not staying long enough for that, but he opened the door and let the former Man of Letters in.

++

“So. No improvement, then.”

Castiel felt like knocking the man out for perhaps the hundredth time since he’d met him, but he knew when someone was deliberately trying to needle him.

“Dean will recover,” he said, and his tone made it clear that it wasn’t open to further discussion.

“Splendid,” Ketch said. He pointed to the box he’d brought in with him, and put on the war room table. “In which case, perhaps when you have a moment you can turn your attention to this.”

Sam eyed the box. Typical Ketch. “What is it?”

“Well, that is the question. I...acquired...it from a novice witch in Cleveland who picked it up at a garage sale of all places.”

Cas bristled. Acquired was probably Ketch’s way of saying stole it after he’d murdered the witch in question, given his one size fits all approach to anything not human.

He didn’t doubt that Ketch would like to do the same to him, and that one day the human would try.

“So what makes you think it’s not junk?”

“Call it a hunter’s intuition.”

Sam huffed at him, said nothing aloud, but Cas picked up on his thoughts.

Ketch wasn’t a hunter. He was a thug, a paid killer, with no conscience and no remorse. And if this wasn’t an all hands on deck situation, Cas knew Sam would have made it very clear to the Englishman that he wasn’t welcome anywhere near their family. 

Sam reached for the box, but Ketch stayed him. “I don’t think it poses any threat, but opening it in a warded area might be best.”

Cas eyed the human, wishing he would take the hint and go already; he was better at social cues these days, and knew their minimal interaction should have been an obvious indicator that they wanted Ketch gone, even without his crass interruption at a time of crisis.

“We’ll get around to it.”

Ketch drew himself up, indignation in every inch. “As you think best. I take it staying overnight is out of the question.”

Sam came to stand next to the Englishman, a less than subtle suggestion. “Kind of got our hands full.”

Not to mention he didn’t want Ketch around them when Dean was hurt and they were...vulnerable.

Ketch wasn’t pleased, but he left, and Cas followed him all the way up and closed the door over behind him.

Yeah, there was never going to be any love lost between them, but Sam knew Cas had his reasons.

Toni and Ketch had attacked and hurt he and Dean, and Ketch had tried to kill them both. Cas’s compassion and forgiving nature came to a sharp stop when it came to people who’d done anything to his family.

He watched the angel take one weary step after another as he came back to the table, and stared at the box.

“I’ll put it in the dungeon, until we can categorise it.”

Sam shrugged, his usual natural curiosity stifled by their situation. “Just be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt, especially for him.”

Cas nodded, but he looked like even that simple gesture took energy he couldn’t spare, and Sam felt like telling him to just leave Ketch’s impromptu delivery and go try to get some rest, even if he couldn’t actually sleep.

He reached for the box himself, seeing no reason why Cas should do all the heavy lifting; it should have been safe enough, given Ketch had carried it to their front door and down the stairs and then put it on their table.

“Sam,” Cas said, but Sam shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I got-“

The most brilliant light exploded out of the box, painfully dazzling, and Sam twisted his head away, crying out.

He thought he head Cas yelling his name, but there was a roaring sound, as if a hurricane had battered through the door and was raging around them.

And the box, it was _thrumming_, he could feel it, the vibrations rattling his very bones.

Someone was touching him...Cas, trying to pull the box from his grasp, but it was way too late, and then it felt like every single cell in his body was being split in two and that was the last thing he knew.

++

Blood.

There was blood in his mouth.

Cas opened his eyes, his body responding sluggishly to his wishes, and found himself staring at the ceiling.

He was flat on his back, and there was blood in his mouth, and his head hurt.

He pushed himself slowly upright, and reached around to cup the back of his head.

There was blood there, too; his fingers came away tacky, and just prodding at the throbbing area made his stomach roil threateningly.

Which made no sense.

None of it made any sense.

He shouldn’t be hurt or bleeding.

He shouldn’t be on the floor, so why was he?

Grimacing, Cas managed to get to his feet; staying there was almost more of an achievement than he could manage, however. His legs were like those of a newborn, weak and unsteady, and he toppled forward, saving himself at the last minute by grabbing hold of the table.

All he could do for some moments was stand there, trying not to fall over, trying not to be sick, trying to work out why doing either of those things was taking such effort, and trying to remember.

His eyes fell on a box, lying on its side, the opening facing away from him, on the table.

A box….

Ketch. Ketch had brought them such a box and they had picked it up…

No. Sam had picked it up.

Where was Sam?

His answer came in the form of a frightened noise, and Cas fought to keep his feet as he followed it to the other side of the table.

There, partially hidden under a red plaid shirt, was a baby. He was squirming, limbs flailing as best they could under the thick fabric, and Cas knew even as his head railed against the improbability of it.

But it was the only thing to make sense, a more likely explanation than someone sneaking past a locked and warded door to abandon a baby in their home before leaving again.

He tumbled rather than knelt down, his knees bruising as they hit the floor, and gathered the infant in his arms.

When he tried to reach out with his Grace, to feel for the soul inside the child, his reward was a pain that shot like a bolt through his head, and left him panting and on the verge of tears.

Sam...there could be no doubt it was him...started to wail.

Cas settled back against the table, and hugged the baby to him. He grabbed the abandoned shirt and wrapped it around Sam, hoping the warmth and possibly some subconscious familiarity would settle him, but it didn’t help.

He tried rocking Sam, even as his head fought to make sense of his tangled memories, trying to pull together the ones relative to their situation, made harder by the screaming child in his arms.

And then something shook loose, a conversation he’d had once with Dean, late at night with the lights turned down, and the world dark and cold around them, and Dean needing an outlet for his thoughts.

In true Dean style, he’d chosen to speak about something else, but Cas had listened anyway because his friend had needed someone to be there and do even just that.

Cas knew the song by heart, part of Metatron’s pop culture education, and he sang it quietly, keeping his voice soft.

Sam’s cries settled slowly, and he stared back at Cas with wide eyes and even reached up to gently touch his face.

When he was steadier, Cas got up and started back towards Dean’s room. He still wasn’t sure what had happened, but he had to make sure Dean wasn’t likewise affected.

And then….then he needed to work out what had been done to them.

And how to fix it.

++

Ketch took a motel room in town.

Under an assumed name, of course; if the device worked, he wanted to be close at hand, but if it didn’t, and Sam or the family halo worked out what it had been intended to do…

Ketch didn’t want to wake up with a knife at his throat.

But he had no reason to doubt the device’s effectiveness (he hadn’t been lying about procuring the item from a witch though the garage sale was a complete fabrication) and both the hunter and the angel had looked exhausted and off their guard enough that Ketch felt that his plan had a good chance at working.

The only downside was how to know. Its radius was a few feet at best and though he’d suggested Castiel open the box alone, he knew Sam would have none of it, especially with the dismissive way he’d put it to them.

Ah, Winchesters. So easily manipulated.

By now, both Sam and the celestial could be out cold.

Or they could be going about their business, having either left the box where it was or simply not having triggered it yet.

Or they could have found out what he had tried to do, and be planning a harsh revenge.

Ketch glanced at his cell phone.

Perhaps he’d wait a few hours, then try both Sam and Castiel’s phones. One might not answer, but he doubted both would ignore him.

If he got a reply, he could gauge whether they were unaffected and ignorant, or unaffected and after his blood.

If he got no reply, then he was half an hour from the bunker and unfettered access.

It was just a pity that this was necessary, but he could see how the land lay now that Dean was out of commmission. Sam didn’t trust him as much as Dean, ironic given their previous positions where the organisation had even concerned.

Castiel didn’t trust him at all.

It would only have been a matter of time before he was turned away and, with things as they were, having a secure foxhole to flee to was a necessity.

He no longer worried about the Old Men, but Michael had created a number of unstable creations, capable of making more of themselves; while he doubted Sam and Castiel had the time or energy to take notice, Ketch had been tracking odd events, bizarre attacks, and even worked the cases as a hunter would.

If was a slowly spreading infection, and before too long (if it went unchecked), would be a silent epidemic until someone posted a video of it on YouTube and the population exploded in panic.

Yes, if that happened, he would very much want a two foot thick warded door to take cover behind.

And, if his plan was successful, he’d have it.

It would be simple to restrain Sam in the dungeon, and use Dean’s wellbeing to keep him in line.

The same would be true for the angel, but Ketch had other plans for him. Once the collar he’d designed was about the angel’s neck, he’d be compelled to follow Ketch’s every order, and a celestial guard dog might come in very handy.

But first, he had to know his little booby trap had worked, and that meant patience.

Ketch poured himself some tea, barely passable made with a cheap kettle and what passed for milk from the local store, and settled down to wait.

++

Dean was alright.

Well, his condition was unchanged from before Ketch’s visit, so not alright, but not reduced to a child as Sam had been.

He hadn’t been roused by any of it, which was both a relief (Cas wasn’t sure he could take care of them both and himself just then) and a worry, that the alarms and Sam screaming hadn’t woken him up.

Even though he knew it should be possible, over time, to return Dean at least mostly to his condition before Michael had possessed him, there was that fear that Dean would get no better than he was now.

But at the moment, his responsibility was to figure out what exactly had happened to them, to him and Sam, and what to do about it.

That began with finding somewhere safe to put Sam, which ended up being an old open topped box from the hunter’s room, that he had been keeping books in.

Cas left Sam in the center of the bed (his high pitched response to this demonstrated how unhappy he was at the lack of physical contact) and made sure it was clean, had no sharp edges, and then folded up a blanket to put in the bottom.

It was far from ideal, but all he could do just then, and he carefully desposited Sam inside it. As for where to leave him then, there was only one suitable place, and Cas hoped on some level Sam would take comfort from his brother being nearby, as he closed Dean’s door half way over, just in case there was any risk in what he was about to do.

He had to lean on the wall as he made his way back to the war room, frustratingly slow, and then stopped at the entrance to stare inside.

His memories were still disordered, like the jumbled up pieces of a jigsaw: all there, but needing to be set out and assembled to make any sense of the picture.

To find answers to his questions.

But it all began with the box, and Cas found some chalk in a drawer, and drew a protective circle around the table first, marking sigils along the circumference to limit the effects of anything within the boundary, and then did a smaller version around the box itself.

He threw up once, and had to hope that wasn’t a warning sign of something, before he carefully opened the box.

The item inside looked plain and innocent enough; it was the size of a jewellery box, unmarked and made of wood.

The lid, though there was no locking mechanism Cas could see, was firmly fastened shut, and when he shook the box he could hear rattling from inside it.

He put it back down and sank into a seat to think.

Slowly, working back to the last thing he fully remembered, and putting one mental foot in front of the other.

Dean. He’d had another healing session with Dean, and it had drained him. Not just his Grace. He’d felt frustrated and helpless, like he was letting his family down again because he couldn’t just touch Dean and restore him fully.

He remembered Sam holding him, and then Ketch was at the door, and Sam silencing the alarms.

And Ketch...he’d brought the box, and he had asked to stay, and Cas remembered biting his tongue but all the same seething at Ketch even daring to asked for that favour when he had to know he’d be refused.

Dean might have said yes, but Dean was no longer able to do so, and Cas wasn’t about to let a snake slither around their home if he had any say in it, so he’d been grateful when Sam had turned Ketch away.

He remembered being surprised at Ketch’s temerity, and being so foolish as to think their answer would be anything but no.

Except Ketch wasn’t an idiot.

Cas’s head throbbed but now it was with temper and not just because he’d hurt himself when he fell.

Ketch had done this. How, why, he didn’t know, but he’d brought that box here and played on their situation, _played them_ and then left.

But what exactly had he done?

Cas shut his eyes and reached inward. After earlier, trying to see Sam’s soul, he wasn’t about to risk trying to use his Grace again, but it was a relief to know it was there.

Inert, hence his current condition, but not stripped from his body.

So. He was essentially human until he found a way to counteract the effects of whatever that box was that Ketch had brought into the bunker.

That might have been, and probably were, intentional.

But what purpose could Ketch have had in turning Sam into a child? As a a plan of attack, it was ludicrous.

Cas heard an unhappy wail, and pushed himself back to his feet. He moved as quickly as he could, back to Dean’s room, and Sam was wailing and kicking, his cheeks red and hot, fat tears rolling down his face.

Dean hadn’t stirred, not at all.

Cas bent to pick Sam up. Of course. He was hungry and thirsty and likely scared.

He carried Sam to the kitchen, but baby supplies were not a staple feature on the brothers’ shopping lists and, other than the night spent babysitting Nora’s child (a part of a whole period in his life he wanted to forget), he had no experience of looking after an infant.

But he had to do something, and at least Sam hadn’t been turned into a newborn - trying to drive into town, weak and bloodied, to purchase formula, would either have ended up with him crashing the car or drawing the attention of the authorities.

In the end, he kept it simple, and heated a little oatmeal in the microwave, added a teaspoon of applesauce, and spoonfed Sam in small doses.

He got some water into him in the same way, and had a minor panic when Sam threw a little of it back up, grumbling, until he remembered that night he wanted to forget, Dean holding Nora’s baby to his shoulder, and rubbing her back as she fussed and did much the same as Sam had just done.

Cas hoped it was that, anyway, and not some sign that he’d injured Sam in some way by feeding him foods surely not designed for a child’s digestion.

He did as Dean had that night, with a towel over his shoulder, and Sam belched loudly, before falling asleep.

Cas returned him to his makeshift crib, and then made his way slowly back to the war room.

He had to find out what that box was, if the effects could be reversed, and if not, how long it would take for them to wear off.

Presuming they did.

++

Ketch waited three hours in total, and then reached for his phone.

If Sam and Castiel hadn’t triggered the box yet, he would find a reason to justify the call.

If they had, he wouldn’t need a reason, because they’d both be unconscious and therefore unable to answer.

That left him just gaining access to the bunker - easily done, as it had been before, despite the new safeguards he knew the Winchesters had put in place - and then putting them out of harm’s (and his) way while he disposed of his little gift.

And then he would have the whole bunker to himself.

He tried Sam’s number first, and it rang out a few times before he hung up. Of course, Sam could be busy, or not near his phone or simply ignoring him.

So he tried Castiel’s next. 

And got no answer there, either. 

It was always possible, and more likely where Castiel was concerned, that his call was being rejected on purpose. After all, angels didn’t sleep...voluntarily, at least, and he knew the angel loathed him.

To be safe, he sent them both a text, telling them he’d found a way that might help Dean.

If they replied, he could work out what to say and do next but since they wouldn’t be likely to ignore a chance to restore Dean…

When no one replied, and neither of them called him back, Ketch knew it had worked.

He picked up his car keys, and left.

++

Cas stared at his phone’s screen.

Ketch had tried Sam’s phone first (Cas had found it among the pile of his clothing on the floor), and Cas had let him ring off.

Then his phone had been next, and he had wondered at him calling.

It made no sense. He had left a magical _bomb_ in their home, and now he was calling them?

Unless he was doing so to see if his little trap had worked, and Cas swithered over whether to answer, or not.

There was still the question of why Ketch had done this. Revenge seemed the most likely reason, there was certainly no love lost between them and the Englishman, but Cas couldn’t think of anything that had happened recently to provoke a sudden attack.

But then the bad blood between him and Toni had been years old and Ketch hadn’t acted on it until it was worth his while.

And then he had done so in a sadistic, awful way.

As for Mick…. Ketch’s ally, his supposed _friend_... All Mick had to do was decide he’d been pushed too far, see (thanks to Dean and Sam) that he had been manipulated and twisted into something that was a tool in his masters’ hands.

And Ketch had killed him because of it, on orders of course.

No. There was more to this than just getting back at them or hurting them. While Cas doubted Ketch would be upset at the damage he’d inflicted, it didn’t feel like his primary purpose here.

Both his and Sam’s phones chirped at the same time, and Cas looked at them both.

The text message was the same, an allusion to finding a way to help Dean.

He was trying everything to test them, to see if he would get any reply.

But since he’d got none, Cas wondered what Ketch’s next course of action would be.

Just in case, he took out the gun Dean kept hidden under the table. It was loaded.

Cas took out his angel blade as well, hoping he didn’t have to use it in his current condition, and returned to the library where he switched off the lights before sitting down to wait.

++

Ketch pushed the heavy door open, and stepped into the bunker. 

It was quiet; his steps echoed as he moved to the top of the stairs and peered down.

The room below was in darkness, which puzzled him, but he supposed Sam and the halo could have turned off the lights, intending to retire for the night after moving the box, and then been knocked out by it afterwards.

They had to have been affected, he was reasonably certain, but if not? If they simply didn’t trust him, and Sam had gone to bed?

It wouldn’t do to venture further and encounter their angelic attack dog prowling the halls; there was no believable explanation he could give for being there, or bypassing their security and locked door.

And besides…. Even though he knew they didn’t trust him, they would still have taken the chance and contacted him to see what he’d found that might help Dean.

No. It had worked, but he didn’t have long to take advantage of his success.

Hours at most and the effects of the box would wear off, so by then he had to be sure to have both Sam and Castiel just where he wanted them.

He descended into the bunker proper, and made his way towards the wall, reaching for the light switch.

Ketch was almost there when he realised he wasn’t alone. 

++

Cas held his breath as Ketch came down the stairs. Sitting where he was, he knew Ketch wouldn’t see him so he kept as still as he could while the other man headed to turn on the lights.

But he must have moved, or perhaps Ketch had good senses, because Cas saw the sudden tension in his form, and knew Ketch was aware of him.

He ducked out of the chair just as Ketch spun, and drew a knife and threw it in his direction.

It thudded through the chair back, burying itself deep.

Cas didn’t waste time trying to get to his feet. He rolled under the table, holding his gun and blade, and came out and up on the other side.

As expected, Ketch was at his chair, pulling loose his knife, and turning to stare across the table.

Even in the dark, Cas was close enough now that Ketch couldn’t miss him.

“Halo.”

“What did you do?” Cas demanded. He kept the gun hidden behind him; Ketch probably knew his current status, but there was no sense in revealing more than he had to.

“I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t sure who was sitting there in the dark, so I apologise if I _frightened_ you. That wasn’t very clever, to startle someone like me, now was it? Where is Sam?”

Cas glared at him. “The box. The box you brought to us. You know exactly what I mean, and you know exactly where Sam is.”

_Or how he is_.

He watched Ketch consider his position, and then tensed as the Englishman reached into his pocket.

He pulled on a pair of knuckledusters, and even from there, even with the lights off, Ketch was near enough for Cas to recognise them.

“I had hoped this would be simple. But somehow you always manage to ruin even the simplest of plans, halo. No matter. The outcome will be the same.”

_He doesn’t know_, Cas realised. _He doesn’t know I’m powerless_.

Whatever effect Ketch had expected from his box, here was proof it likely wasn’t what had happened. Not to him, at any rate, and not to Sam.

While Cas still didn’t know what Ketch wanted, he knew he had to stop the other man here. After him, there was just Dean, still lost inside his own body, and Sam, vulnerable and dependant upon him, Cas, for support and protection.

Ketch vaulted the table, sliding across the surface until he came back to his feet close enough to Cas to take a swing at him.

Cas blocked it, the knuckle dusters clashing against his blade and drove his foot into Ketch’s knee. 

It put Ketch down, briefly, allowing Cas space to back up and ready himself.

For as long as possible, he had to keep Ketch convinced he was fighting an angel, and not just a man; the moment Ketch realised differently, he had a gun he could and would use.

Of course, so did Cas. But it occurred to him that if the effects of the box on him and Sam didn’t wear off naturally, Ketch might have information they needed.

Given he didn’t seem to know the scope of his own plan, though, Cas wasn’t sure it would be of much use.

But with Sam trapped in a child’s body, he had no wish to risk it.

He slid the gun discreetly into the waistband of his pants as Ketch powered to his feet and charged him; Ketch drove him back, Cas finding his head injury and the general malaise that had settled over him since he woke up slowing him down.

That might not give it away though; Ketch might think his delivery had had some effect. Still, he had to do better than this, and parried Ketch’s next blow then drove his shoulder into his oppenent’s chest, before spinning around to draw his blade across Ketch’s torso, slashing through shirt and skin.

Ketch staggered back, panting, red soaking through the material.

But he was grinning, like he suddenly knew more than he had, and then Ketch reached up to tap the back of his own head.

“Did you hurt yourself, Castiel? Or are you going to tell me all that blood in your hair, on your neck, your collar, isn’t yours?”

Cas went for the gun, but Ketch was faster, and backhanded him so fiercely that he staggered back against the table.

Ketch slammed his fist into the inside of Cas’s forearm, making the limb numb, and forcing him to drop the blade he held.

He jerked his head forward, trying to catch Ketch’s face, but Ketch twisted away and raised his shoulder to intercept the blow, which stunned Cas and left him open.

Ketch grabbed him under the arms and heaved up and back, dumping Cas roughly on the table.

Before he could do anything, Ketch fastened his hands around Cas’s throat, and dug in.

It hurt. He needed to breathe and he couldn’t, and every point of pressure around his neck felt like a steel bolt being gradually pushed in.

“Easy,” Ketch soothed, ignoring Cas’s attempts to break his grip, or reach up and claw at his face. “Easy, halo. I”m not going to kill you. I admit, this is a surprise, and actually not at all what I wanted. But there is a way, I’m sure, to undo this, and then we can go back to my original plan.

“I wonder, though, if you’re human instead of unconscious, what became of dear Sam? Or did the effect only vary for angels?”

As if in answer, a terrible wail filled the air, unmistakeably the cry of a child. 

Ketch stared down at him, curiously. “Well. Unless one of you has gotten a lady into trouble, I presume my toy didn’t have the anticipated effect. Tell me, Castiel. If I follow that sound, will I find Sam’s somewhat shorter than the last time I saw him?”

It was a rhetorical question; given he was choking the life out of Cas, there was no possibility of an answer. 

Ketch leaned in closer. “And to think I was going to use Dean’s well-being to keep him in line. Now all I have to do is grab a pillow. Perhaps do the same for them both. Spare their suffering. And make my life so much easier.”

He squeezed tighter, and Cas could feel himself blacking out, everything tunnelling down until he couldn’t even hear Ketch speaking anymore.

If he let this happen, Ketch would carry out his plans. Cas knew he had no scruples, no conscience. 

He couldn’t let him, and he reached out, desperate for something, anything, he could use.

The box. It was just within his reach, if he strained, and Cas did until he could wrap his fingers around it and then he swung it at Ketch as hard as he could.

It was an incredible risk, but necessary, and Ketch grunted and then there was blood, and he staggered away, hands going to his head.

Cas coughed as air flooded back into his lungs, but he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the box with both hands this time.

It was undamaged. Cas closed on Ketch and swung it at him again.

This time, Ketch went down, to his knees, and he fumbled under his coat, reaching for something,

Cas had no intention of finding out what. He brought the box down hard a third time, and then it was over, and Ketch collapsed, blood pouring from his head.

Cas put the box down, and staggered back.

Dead or not, he didn’t care. Sam was screaming now, and Cas turned too quickly towards the sound, wanting to run, but that was a mistake.

He made it maybe five feet before his body showed him even walking was out of the question, and he ended up collapsing to the floor.

The impact stung, chafing his hands and knees, but he ignored the pain and crawled back towards Dean’s room.

He was almost there when Sam suddenly fell silent, and that was perhaps the most afraid he’d been in recent months, or at least since Dean had said yes and gave himself over to Michael.

When he reached Dean’s door, he used the last of his strength to haul himself to his feet, push it open, and then stared at the scene within.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, Sam in his arms, staring down at the baby with a puzzled look on his face.

Sam was staring back up at Dean like he was a miracle set in flesh, and then Dean turned to look at him.

“Cas?”

“Dean,” Cas said, and he was drawn forward, pulled in by Dean, as he always was, and Dean rose to meet him.

Which was just as well, because that was the last thing Cas saw before his strength and his will buckled, and he collapsed forward, aware at the final moment of someone catching him and keeping him from hitting the floor.

++

It took another six hours for the box’s effects to wear off.

Cas woke up to find Dean had cleaned, and stitched, and dressed his wounds, and put him to bed.

Sam was sleeping in the box, Dean having put it on the floor next to Cas’s bed.

While he’d been unconscious, Dean had followed the bloody trail Cas had left back to the war room, and found Ketch there (alive, though Cas had given it a good attempt to make it otherwise) and his memories had started to return.

Ketch was now in the dungeon, handcuffed, allowing Dean to focus on his family.

He was still very quiet, as if everything was settling slowly back into place, but he got Cas to fill in the gaps, and Cas saw his face darken when he heard everything Ketch had done.

“Fucking home invading little dick,” he said, when Cas was finished. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shook his head. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

Dean picked Sam up, carefully, to make sure he didn’t wake him, and sat down next to Cas on the bed.

“Saying yes to Michael. Cas...I…. I mean I knew there was a chance, hell, let’s be honest, I knew he wouldn’t keep his word, but there was no other way, and ….”

“Dean. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Don’t I? Look at what happened to you and Sam because of what I did. You nearly died tonight, and Sam…. Fuck, Sam.”

“No,” Cas insisted. “Dean, don’t. I didn’t have a choice when it came to Lucifer, either, not if I wanted to save you and Sam, and you said yes to save Sam and Jack. Then we were both taken advantage of, because all we wanted to do was protect the people we love.”

Dean looked up, and he started to shake his head, but Cas cupped his face gently.

“Dean.”

He shifted over, making enough room for Dean to stretch out next to him, Sam in his arms, and they stayed like that until Cas felt the tingle of his Grace slipping free of Ketch’s attack, and mending the damage he’d taken, restoring him.

And if he was now recovered, then…

He stood up and grabbed a spare blanket from the end of the bed.

“You might want to put Sam down.”

Dean frowned, but then he must have felt something because he quickly desposited his, literally, baby brother in he middle of the bed.

A moment later, Sam’s body rippled, and there was a bright flash of light before he reappeared as himself.

He looked around, panicked, confused, and naked as the day he was born, until Cas quickly draped the blanket over him.

“Cas? Dean!”

Dean was quickly yanked into his brother’s arms, and he chuckled as Sam got a little too excited.

“Yeah, don’t squish me. Hey, it’s okay, I’m back.”

He reached out a hand for Cas, and pulled the angel in too, and Sam wrapped one arm around Cas as well.

Cas held on to them both, grateful that one again they’d found a way to fight through, to fight back to each other, a way to survive.

He had his family back.

And this time, he intended to hold on to them.


End file.
